


the mage, the emperor, and the homunculous

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/F, F/M, Immortal edward elric, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, M/M, Mage Edward Elric, Multi, Parental Izumi Curtis, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Parental Roy Mustang, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Team as Family, but it’s there - Freeform, not very graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mages are quick to love, just as their loves are quick to die - luckily, mages’ loves always come back.Or, Edward the Mage and his homunculous boyfriend spend a lot of time tracking down their other boyfriend’s new reincarnations.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!
> 
> so this was supposed to be an edling fic for edling week but then I kept thinking about it and it turned into this because I’m a dumbass anyway
> 
> basically: edward is a mage. when mage’s fall in love, the person they fall in love with is reincarnated endlessly until the mage a) falls out of love or b) dies. so he falls in love with ling skdjdjd
> 
> the person the mage is in love with can remember the past lives they’ve lived with the power of True Love’s Kiss TM, but they need to fall in love with the mage without remembering first for it to work.
> 
> also greed is there

   There are not many people who believe the myth of the Golden Mage and the Homunculous.

    The myth speaks of two wandering immortals: the Mage, his body eternally seventeen despite his mind being centuries old, and his companion, the Homunculous, an artificially made human. They travel the land in search of the Mage’s brother, some say, while others claim they seek to purge a great evil. In both versions, they do kind deeds along the way, their hearts big, contrary to their rough personalities. 

    The story is one told to children at bedtime, a story passed around the campfire. It is a story shared at Resembool’s bonfires, and told in the form of a drinking song in Dublith, both towns remembering the immortals that left them centuries ago.

    It is a story Prince Yao Ling has known since he was a baby, one he can never quite get out of his head. 

 

    “Are you really sure that’s what you wanna wear?” Greed asks, tying the last ribbon on his traditional Xingese robes. 

    Edward sneers. “I look fine.” Greed begs to differ - just a button down, vest, and slacks?  _ Cowardly.  _

    “Of course you do, doll, you always do. But you’re going to the  _ Emperor’s Coronation,  _ and that’s what you’re wearing?”

   “Yes,” Edward says simply.

   “Let me rephrase that,” Greed sighs, “You’re meeting this version of Ling for the first time, and you’re wearing that? First impressions are important, you know.” Greed comes up behind him, settling his hands at Edward’s waist. Wine eyes meet golden in the mirror as Edward leans back into his old. 

    “Why give him false expectations?” Despite his words, he betrays himself with how obsessively he messes with his hair, fiddling nonstop with his braid.

    Greed sighs, again, and brings a hand up to stall the one Edward has on his braid. Edward doesn’t respond, instead looking up to the hotel clock - and freezing. He scrambles out of Greed’s hold, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “We’ve gotta go!”

    As they speedwalk their way down Xing City’s streets, Edward begins to devolve into a barely veiled panic. “What if it’s not our Ling?” He asks in an unusually high pitched voice, “Then what are we gonna do? We would have come all the way here for  _ nothing,  _ Greed-”

    Greed knocks him gently on the back of the head and says, “Calm down, babe. He’s our Ling.”

    “Yeah, but how do we  _ know?” _ Edward, presumably in an attempt to look a little less terrified, straightens his shoulders and stares straight ahead. But Greed sees right through him.

    “You’re paranoid,” Greed teases, but to soothe Edward’s fears he continues, “Listen, we’ll know when we see him. If he’s not Ling… we’ll hop on the next train and head back to Amestris. We need to visit your parents anyway.”

    “They’re not my  _ parents,”  _ Edward grumbles. (They’re  _ so _ his parents, but Greed doesn’t want to make Edward freak more than he already is, so he bites his tongue.) Edward stops short as the palace comes into view, and Greed can almost see the constantly awestruck seventeen year old he met three centuries ago. Edward’s automail hand grips tight to Greed’s bicep, forcing the Homunculous to activate his shield, as he looks to the towering building with stars in his golden eyes. 

    “God,” Edward says breathily, “If I thought the palace looked great last time we visited…”

    “Game plan,” Greed whispers, “You-”

    Edward laughs, with some kind of renewed hope that makes Greed’s heart swell, “Yeah, yeah. Offer myself as the palace mage. I know.”

    “Hey,” Greed bumps his shoulder gently into Edward’s, “It’s Ling.”

    “It’s Ling,” Edward repeats, and they continue on.

    The coronation is a public event. Or, so they say - it  _ does  _ cost quite a bit to actually get in, but at the very least they’re not directly outlawing regular citizens from attending. Greed supplies the guards with the right amount of coin, and they are sent off to the courtyard. 

    They shuffle awkwardly in the sea of Xingese citizens, some who’ve likely travelled from the edges of the country to attend. Mei had almost accompanied them, but then she’d changed her mind. She’d said, and Greed quotes, “I’ll let you seduce my brother first, then I’ll come.”

    Edward stands on his tiptoes to whisper into Greed’s ear, “I wonder what he looks like this time.” Greed has to agree. Ling’s looked different in every life he’s lived. 

    “Who knows,” Greed responds, “Definitely beautiful.”

    “When is he not?” Edward says. 

    Trumpets blare, and Greed finds Edward’s organic hand in his own, gripping like a lifeline. 

   Down the hall comes the most beautiful man Greed has ever seen. (Since Ling’s last life. Also, he’s tied with Edward. They’re both the most beautiful men Greed has ever seen.)

    His black hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and Greed would love to take it out and runs his fingers through it. In his last life, Ling had kept his hair woefully short. Dark eyes scan the crowd, a bright smile that just  _ screams  _ Ling on his face, his hands behind his back. 

    As Ling approaches the altar, Edward whispers, “Yeah, that’s our Ling. Can’t mistake that smile for anyone else’s.”

 

    The coronation may have been public, but the reception is not. 

    Charms have never been Edward’s strong suit. He’s always preferred transmutation, and every once in a while he’ll dabble in illusions. But, charms come in handy, and even with his limited knowledge it isn’t difficult to trick the palace guards into thinking their names are right there on the guest list. 

    The ballroom is absolutely beautiful. Intricately engraved golden pillars reach to the ceiling, which holds a grand chandelier. The other attendees wear extravagant, bejeweled robes, except for a handful of foreign guests. Edward sticks out like a sore thumb, with his underwhelmingly casual outfit. Even Greed is out of place - his robes had cost a pretty penny, and yet they are nothing compared to everyone else’s 100k investments. 

    Ling stands on a raised platform at the end of the ballroom, observing. He appears passive, but Ling’s expressions are the same on every face. Greed recognizes the furrow on his eyebrows, the downturn to his lips. Something’s bothering him. 

    Not to mention the fact that he’s not dancing. Ling  _ never  _ passes up the chance to dance.

    “Isn’t this weird?” Edward asks, sipping at his champagne. He makes a face and dumps it in a nearby potted plant.

    “Isn’t what weird?” Greed, on the other hand, is on his fourth glass. It’s not like he can get drunk. 

    “I mean…,” Edward shrugs, “Ling’s royalty. Remember when Ling was  _ literally  _ a mechanic from Resembool with like, two pennies and a snail to his name? Now he’s an emperor, of all things!”

    Greed smirks. “We’ve seen weirder shit.”

    “We have, yeah.” Ling begins to make his way down from the platform, finally.

    “We’ve  _ done  _ weirder shit,” Greed continues. Edward chuckles and bumps him with his shoulder. Sadly, Edward’s short as hell, and his shoulder lands square in Greed’s bicep. 

    Ling’s disappeared from sight, now. 

    “How are we gonna get him to talk to us?” Edward asks himself more than he asks Greed, staring down at the glass of water he’d picked up. “It’s not like we can just approach the emperor and-”

    “Hello there!”

    And there’s Ling, right in front of them. 

    “Oh, hello, Emperor Yao!” Edward stutters our in Xingese. He remembers his manners after a moment and gives a respectful bow. Greed doesn’t - he can tell Ling’s eyes are only on Edward at the moment. 

    “I noticed you were avoiding the dance,” Ling says, nodding back where most attendees are dancing, “So how about you dance with me?” He holds out a hand, leaning in close like he always does, the overly affectionate bastard.

    And, no questions asked, Edward takes it.

 

    “So,” Ling says as they begin to dance, “What’s your name?”

     “Edward Elric, your majesty,” Edward says. He notices, with a bit of a fuzzy feeling in his chest, that this song has always been one of Ling’s favorites to dance to. 

    “And where are you from, Edward Elric?” 

_ God,  _ Edward thinks as Ling gives him those curious eyes,  _ I fucking missed you. _

    “I’m from Resembool, your majesty. It’s a small town in eastern Amestris.”

     Ling hums, and pulls Edward a little closer. Edward lets him. He glances over Ling’s shoulder, and there’s Greed, giving a supportive thumbs up. Then, he mouths something like,  _ Ask him! _

    “What exactly brings you to Xing?” Ling asks. He acts as if he doesn’t notice that many have stopped to look at them, or are sneaking glances as they dance, so Edward pretends like he doesn’t, either. 

    “Well, actually, your majesty,” Edward starts, weighing his words carefully, “I’d heard that the palace was in need of a mage.”

    “Oh?” Edward mourns quietly when Ling leans back to look him in the eyes, “Are you going to show me what you can do, Mage?”

    Edward grins. He can do this. He can do a simple spell.

    “Of course, your majesty, if I could just get something to transmute?”

    Ling fully detaches himself, save for a hand in the crook of Edward’s elbow. He drags the mage behind him to a table filled with food and plonks a glass in Edward’s hand. “Transmute this.”

    “You - isn’t this expensive?” It really looks like it is - it’s intricately carved with minute details Edward would need a magnifying glass to make out.

    “Yes,” Ling says with a teasing smile, “But surely you are skilled enough to transmute it back.”

     “Of course, your majesty!”

     “Good. Do you need some sort of writing utensil?”

    “That won’t be necessary,” Edward says. He ignores Ling’s questioning look, setting the glass on the table, and claps.

    They’ve attracted quite an audience by now, and the blue light surrounding them doesn’t help. Their onlookers gasp as he slams his hands on the table and there is a flash of light obscuring Edward and the glass. When it dissipates, the glass is a small figurine of a dragon. 

    “Impressive,” Ling breathes. “I’ll admit I don’t know much about Magic, but… I know enough to know that most would need a circle for that. You are incredibly talented, Palace Mage Elric.”

     “You mean-?”

    “There is no question. You are to be the palace Mage.” Ling glances down at where his hand is still on Edward’s elbow and takes it off quickly, a furious blush on his face. “Come with me, and we will discuss your lodgings.”

    “Are you sure, your majesty? The reception is still on…” And he needs to transmute that dragon back, but whatever. 

    “I am the emperor,” Ling says, looking mighty pleased with myself, “I can leave whenever I like.”

    “Of course, your majesty,” Edward says for the umpteenth time that hour. He catches Greed’s eyes just as he and Ling start to ascend the stairs, and Greed gives two giant thumbs up. Then, he mimes something obscene, and if it weren’t for all the people still staring at him, Edward would flip him the bird.

    “Your majesty,” Edward says as they approach the top of the stairs, “Will it be a problem if I have a companion move in with me?”

    “Not at all,” Ling says. Then, he seems to register Edward’s words, the tips of his ears going red. “A… companion, you say? Your partner?”

    “Yes, your majesty.”

    “Ah.” Edward hates how forlorn Ling appears, but he can’t exactly say  _ We literally came here because you’re our long lost lover,  _ now can he?

    Over the years, many have advised Edward that if all Ling needs to remember his past life is true love’s kiss, Edward should just  _ kiss  _ him. But that’s not quite how it works. Ling needs to reciprocate his feelings, first, or the kiss wouldn’t work. Then it would just be awkward.

    They enter the hallway just as Ling says, “When will you be ready to move in, Mage Elric?”

    “Tomorrow morning would be fine, your majesty,” Edward says. God, this is so painfully  _ formal.  _

    “That’s quite early. Don’t you have things to move in?”

    “My partner and I are, ah, nomads in a way,” Edward laughs, “We don’t have many things to begin with.”

    Ling looks almost  _ appalled.  _ “Surely you have some kind of a home?”

    “Yeah, I guess,” Edward shrugs, “My brother and his wife live in Resembool, where we grew up. But - they’re travelers too, so the house goes vacant a lot… your majesty.”

    Ling gives a thoughtful hum. He stops, suddenly, in front of a red door. “These will be your quarters. I will have the servants prepare it for you and your -  _ companion _ .”

    “Thank you very much, your majesty,” Edward says, bowing. 

    Ling waves a hand. “There is no need for that when there is no one looking. I think we should be friends, Edward.” He holds out a hand, clearly attempting to imitate Amestrian traditions for Edward’s sake.

    Edward takes it, again, and says, “I think you’re right, Ling.”


	2. it’s totally not stalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward overworks himself, Ling totally isn’t a stalker, and Greed gets a new job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that gay shit?
> 
> that gay shit.
> 
> edit: I may or may not have removed like a solid four hundred words from this chapter shut up okay you didn’t fucking see anything

    Ling did _not_ expect to meet a cute, smart, talented guy on his first night as emperor. He did, somewhat, expect the guy to be taken, because _why wouldn’t he._ But… he _also_ didn’t expect to genuinely consider pursuing a relationship with a taken man. (He squashed that thought down quickly. He has morals, after all.)

 

    Edward’s _companion,_ as Ling had discovered that morning, is just as attractive as Edward himself. Of course. What else did Ling expect? God hates him.

 

    “Can you believe this?” He asks the girl to his left, then turns and realizes no one is there. He stares at empty air for a moment, because he _swears_ there’s a girl who is supposed to be there. Instead, the only person there is his guard. She looks to him with a raised eyebrow and he waves his hand dismissively.

 

    He shakes himself out of his confusion and continues his way down the hall. After all, the emperor is a busy man.

 

    But as Ling sits down in his office to do his work for the day, Ling finds he still can not get the Mage, or his companion, or the girl who does not exist out of his head. He feels as though there is something he is missing, something important. And yet, when he racks his brain for it - had he met the Mage before, maybe? -  he finds nothing.

 

    “Excuse me,” Ling says to the record keeper leaving the office. She approaches and bows. “I need you to look into something for me.”

  


    “Yes, your majesty?”

 

    “Find whatever you can on Edward Elric. He’s an Amestrian, so you may have more luck if you contact someone there. Find _anything you can.”_

 

     “Yes, your majesty.”

 

    (Your majesty, your majesty, your majesty. As if he has no other name.)

 

    Once she is out of sight, Ling leans back in his chair, arms behind his head. God, he’s such a stalker, but - something isn’t right, and he’s going to find out what.

 

———

    

    Edward’s first job is to set up wards.

 

    Easy - any mage worth his salt can set up wards. Except, this is a palace, not a little house in the country. They want _strong_ wards. As in, they want wards that require blood.

 

    He can still feel the energy from their last mage’s wards, so that’s good. It’s something he can draw on. If it were someone else’s, someone he’s more familiar with, like Alphonse or Roy’s magic, he could intertwine with his own. That would make it twice, maybe three times as strong. But he doesn’t even know the _name_ of the last mage, so attempting that could go south quick.

 

    “How long will it take?” The guard asks. Edward shoots her a curious look, wishing he could see under her mask.

 

    “With grounds this large, a few days. Maybe a week. The wards require blood, so I can’t do it all at once.”

 

    “Very well.” The guard turns and leaves, and Edward sets to work.

 

    It’s best to ward off one area at a time. He won’t be able to make it all the way around the palace in a day without falling over from the summer heat or from exhaustion.

 

    He begins with dropping stones on the ground. No one would notice them unless they were looking for them. They’re just small, inconspicuous rocks. But inside each of them is a magically charged jewel.

 

    He drops them intermittently, only using about twenty until his automail starts to burn around noon. He stops to rest and eat his lunch under a shade tree, and then returns to work.

 

    Is he even getting paid for this?

 

    He makes a small cut on his hand. It takes only a few drops of mage blood on each stone, as well as some magic. Once he has circled back to his starting point, Edward can feel the exhaustion start to kick in. These wards require strong magic, which he _has,_ but dear lord he’s been at it all day and it’s _hot._

 

    He nearly collapses the second the last drop of blood hits the last stone. But someone catches him by his waist - not Greed. Too small to be Greed.

 

    “Hey there,” Ling says. He steadies Edward and let’s go, taking a step back. “Are you working on the wards?”

 

    “Uh… yeah,” Edward says, desperately wishing Ling hadn’t let go. He’s really, _really_ having trouble standing. He feels hot, mostly because it’s literally ninety degrees but also because of his overuse of magic, and it’s taking everything in him not to fall over on the spot.

 

    Ling takes in Edward’s appearance and furrows his eyebrows. “Are you alright, Edward?”

 

    “I…” And then he falls forward again, straight into Ling’s arms. “Yeah, just - take me to Greed, please?”

 

     “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go to the medical ward?” Ling asks as he hefts Edward up into his arms. “And do be aware, when we reach the palace, I’ll have to pass you off. I - sadly, I can not be seen carrying you.”

 

     “Yeah, whatever, idiot prince.” Later, Edward would realize he had said that and want to cut out his own tongue. “Hospital ward’s fine, I guess, but I need - Greed. Yeah.”

 

    “Very well.”

 

    And Edward falls asleep.

 

———

 

   Edward is very heavy, is the first thing Ling notices. Then, Edward’s sleeve slips and Ling understands why. Automail.

 

    Ling bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if changes need to be made for Edward’s sake, and why Edward had not said anything. Surely, automail is something one would want to report to their employer.

 

    Once he is close to the palace entrance, his guard appears at his side. Where she was hiding he doesn’t know, but that’s no matter to him.

 

    “Take him to the medical ward,” he instructs as he hands Edward off, “I will join you shortly.”

 

   “Yes, your majesty,” she says as she speeds off.

 

    Ling makes quick work of the trip to the mage’s quarters. Edward had been adamant about seeing Greed.

 

    He wonders if it would be more emperor like to have a servant do this. Oh well. He doesn’t plan to be a very traditional emperor, anyway.

 

    He knocks urgently on Greed’s door, calling out an, “It’s Emperor Yao!”

 

    Greed answers the door without a shirt on. Ling tries his best to keep his eyes up.

 

    “Hello there, your majesty,” Greed says, bowing, “For what do I owe the pleasure?” God, fuck, Ling doesn’t know if he wants to kill this guy or make out with him.

 

     _Not the point!_ He says to himself, _The mage is the point!_

 

“E-,” He remembers that it doesn’t do to be so informal with his servants when others are listening, and corrects himself quickly with, “Mage Elric seems to have overworked himself. He requires your presence in the medical ward.”

 

    Greed closes his eyes and mutters something under his breath. Ling thinks maybe this isn’t a rare occurrence.

 

   “Lead the way, your majesty,” Greed says, but Ling holds up a finger.

 

    “No, no, no,” he says, “Put a shirt on first.”

 

    “Ah.” Greed disappears into his quarters, and when he returns he’s wearing a skin tight shirt under his vest. Like, _skin_ tight. Greed, it seems, doesn’t know what appropriate dress is for the emperor’s palace. Ling would have to send someone to teach him soon.

 

    “Follow me,” Ling says coolly, turning on his heel. They walk down the hall in a - slightly awkward - silence.

 

    “There hundred years of living, you’d think the dumbass would understand how not to overwork his magic by now,” Greed murmurs. It likely wasn’t something Ling was supposed to head, so he pretends he didn’t.

 

    But - God, Ling had forgotten that Edward’s an immortal. How had he forgotten one of the defining traits of Mages? Was it because Edward seems so - young, so full of life?

 

    Ling shakes his head, casting his thoughts aside as they reach the medical ward. His guard stands dutifully by Edward’s bed, bowing and stepping aside to allow Greed and Ling access.

 

    “What are you doing?” Ling asks when Greed grabs Edward by the elbow. Edward’s glassy eyes open ever so slightly, and he returns Greed’s hold, twining their arms together.

 

    “He can use energy from someone he shares a mutual love with,” Greed mutters. His face turns pinched, wine eyes narrowed, making the most serious expression Ling has ever seen on Greed’s face.

 

     Edward croaks something that resembles Greed’s name. Shushing him, Greed uses his other hand to gently push hair off Edward’s face, and suddenly Ling feels as though he is intruding on a private moment.

 

    The blue lightning Ling had previously seen when Edward transmuted the glass (still a figurine, sitting on his shelf) surrounds his and Greed’s arms. Greed stumbles. Ling holds out his hands as though to catch him but the man rights himself quickly.

 

    “You’re good, Edward,” Greed whispers, and Ling chooses that moment to take his leave.

 

    “Tomorrow, do not allow Edward to begin his work without Greed accompanying him,” Ling tells his guard.

 

    She nods. “I understand, my lord.”

 

    “I will be returning to my work, now,” Ling says.

 

    Hours later, when he’s barely made a dent in the stack of paperwork he has to do, he still can’t get the mage and his companion out of his mind.

 

———

 

    The next day, Greed joins Edwarf in his work. He offers a helping hand, using his abilities as a homunculous to their advantage by being the one to place the stones. He can’t do much more than that, but it means they can get twice as much done in a day. Edward follows behind him, imbuing his magic into the soil and leaving small droplets of blood.

 

    When they are finished for the day, they relax under a shade tree in the courtyard. Edward wants to rest against Greed but it’s far too hot, so he opts to remove his vest and shoes and roll up his slacks.

 

    “You good, doll?” Greed asks, passing Edward a bottle of water. Edward hums noncommittally.

 

    “Here,” Greed says, taking Edward’s organic hand, “Use my energy.”

 

     _I love it when you say that,_ is what Edward wants to say. _I love it when you share things with me and Ling even though you don’t with anyone else._ He bites his tongue. Or, rather, he doesn’t have the strength to speak. (Or, he’s too much of an emotionally stunted fool to admit such a thing.)

 

    He focuses on the abundance of energy Greed has as a homunculous and _pulls._

 

    As the energy transfers to him, warmth fills his chest. His heads start to clear, his surroundings come more into focus.

 

    “Thanks,” Edward says when he has had his fill.

 

    “Of course. Can’t have my things dying on me.”

 

    Ah. There’s Greed.

 

    “Shut up,” Edward grumbles.

 

    “I don’t think this Ling likes me.”

 

    “Oh?” Edward says, raising an eyebrow, “How could you _possibly_ think that?”

 

    Greed gives him the finger. “Fuck off.”

 

    “He’ll come around,” Edward says. He leans against the tree and shuts his eyes, hoping to nap.

 

    “Yep,” Greed says, popping the p, “when he gets that kiss.”

 

    “I’m sure it won’t take that long.” Even as Edward says it, he knows it probably isn’t true.

 

——-

 

     Three days later, there are fresh wards on the palace and Ling is in his study.

 

    “My Lord,” his guard says as she enters, “I have brought the records you asked the record keeper to find. General Roy Mustang front Amestris sent them.”

 

    Ling hums and says, “Thank you. You are dismissed.”

 

    The folder is surprisingly _thin,_ for a mage. Most mages would have records going back centuries - marriages, children, homes.

 

    But Edward’s folder is simple: there’s his full name, his date of birth, his relatives… and not much else.

 

    Well, it’s not that nothing else is _there._

 

It’s that everything else has been blacked out.

 

 

     Perhaps he will have to have a conversation with General Mustang.  

———

    “Hey!” Greed calls, and when he is ignored he says, louder this time, “ _Hey!”_

 

    The guard finally stops and turns to him. Her expression is concealed by her mask, but Greed expects it’s something unhappy. “Yes?”

 

    Greed rushes up to just a few feet away from her. “Miss, I’d like to ask you for a position as a guard.”

 

    “Oh?” She lifts her head slightly, as though she is assessing him and says, “What can you bring to the table?”

 

    Greed has always been dramatic.

 

    He yanks a candleholder off the wall with ease, and stabs the jagged end straight into his stomach.

 

    Impressively, the guard barely reacts. Nor does she react when his stomach sparks red and the hole starts to close, expelling the candleholder.

 

    “Ah,” she says simply, “how do you do that?”

 

    “I am just as immortal as my husband.”

 

    The guard steps back, her hands on her hips. Or, rather, her hands over the knives likely hiding in her clothes.

 

    His assessment is correct: she comes at him with a knife, and he dodges smoothly when it approaches his neck. The shield comes up, too, because Greed is nothing if not a showman.

 

    “Hm.”

 

    “If you don’t mind me asking,” Greed starts, “May I have a name to call you?”

 

    The guard crosses her arms as she says, “General Lan Fan to you.”

 

    Ah.

 

    Of fucking course.

 

———

 

    

 

     _“Are you sure this will work, my Lord?”_

 

_“Of course. Those three bastards would do anything for each other. It’s not difficult to exploit that.”_

 

_“But, my Lord…”_

 

_“Are you questioning me?”_

 

_“No, my Lord. I apologize.”_

 

_“Good. This is going to be easy.”_

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come join us on the fma discord server https://discord.gg/9STJzm8
> 
> scream at me on tumblr @luciimarii


	3. letters, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward writes some letters, Greed is barely here, and Ling loses something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh oops greed barely exists in this one can we gets some f’s in the chat

_ Ed- _

 

_     I got an interesting letter from Ling earlier - he’s looking into your records. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get his hands on anything that could trigger his memories early.  _ ~~_ I’ve got your back, kid.  _ ~~

_ Riza asked about that book she gave you. She wouldn’t tell me what book, because apparently you swore her to secrecy. She’d like to know if you’ve been using it and if it’s been helpful.  _

_     How  _ is  _ Ling? It’s hard to believe that guy’s an emperor now.  _

_     Good luck, kid. Stay safe. _

 

_     -Roy  _

 

———

    Greed gets back to Edward and his’ quarters at half past one in the morning, after several hours of sparring. Edward, of course, is still awake. 

 

    “Sleep,” Greed says. He passes Edward, who sits at what may be a desk. It’s hard to tell - every inch of the surface is covered by papers and journals and random magical artifacts Greed can’t identify. 

 

    “It’s only 1:30,” Edward says, then pauses. “It’s  _ 1:30.  _ Where have you been?”

 

    “When was the last time you checked the clock?” Greed asks, collapsing onto the bed. 

 

    “Eleven, I got distracted,” He says. Mission Make-Edward-asleep is three centuries in the works. “Where’ve you been?”

 

    “I asked the guard lady for a position,” Greed says. Edward’s eyes light up - figuratively. They’re already _literally glowing,_ in that way that mages’ eyes are wont to do in dim light. He leans towards the bed, his butt on the edge of his seat. 

 

    “ _ And?” _

 

    “And she said yes. Double and…” Greed trails off, leaving Edward in suspense. 

 

    “Go on, asshole.”

 

    “She told me to call her General Lan Fan.”

 

    Edward inhales sharply, then goes silent for a moment. After he’s registered the information he scrambles out of his chair, going for the highest level of his bookshelf. He pulls down a journal that Greed recognizes as his oldest one.

 

    His diary.

 

    Greed’s never actually read it. Or seen inside of it. He’d tried a couple of times in the first - oh, six decades? It’s…  _ odd,  _ kind of, because Greed is not only, well, the literal embodiment of Greed, but also because Edward and Greed share  _ everything.  _

 

   Edward scribbles something down, then looks back up to Greed. “Anything else?”

 

    “She didn’t talk much, but she took off her mask, and. Yeah. It’s gotta be Lan Fan.”

 

    The Lan Fan that hasn’t been around since life one. The Lan Fan that gave Ling away at his wedding, and helped teach Edward how to fight, and once beat up an asshole bigot or two (or five or six or ten,) that threatened Ling during the War. 

 

    “This - this doesn’t make sense,” Edward says, more to himself than to Greed, “How can she be here?”

 

    “Doll-”

 

    “She wasn’t dating anyone last time, right?” Edward mutters desperately, “ _ Right?  _ Did a mage fall in love with her? Do I need to call Winry? Winry and Lan Fan were always close, maybe-”

 

    “Baby,  _ calm down,”  _ Greed says, placing a soothing hand on Edward’s knee, “You need to  _ sleep.”  _ It wouldn’t do to have his Edward collapse in some super fancy, royal meeting or whatever.

 

    “Doll, don’t you have to go enchant Ling’s sword or something tomorrow morning?” Greed asks just to pressure Edward into  _ going the fuck to sleep.  _ It’s something of an art - but hey, he’s had three hundred years to master it. 

    Edward quiets down. “I’ll try to sleep. No promises.”

 

    “Okay then, let’s go to sleep!” Greed chirps. He stands, tugging on Edward’s arm so that he follows. Edward grunts, looking to all the world like he’s a woodland creature fresh out of hibernation. 

 

    Greed swoops down to press a kiss to his lips, but just before he lands Edward pushes against his chest with the metal hand. “Take a shower. You reek. Why are you so sweaty?”

 

———

 

_ Bastard-  _

 

_     Hey. Thank you for blacking those records out, I guess. It definitely only made him more suspicious, dumbass. Next time, just figure out how to avoid sending him the records, yeah? _ ~~_ I really appreciate it, though. _ ~~

_      Tell Riza the book’s really good, it’s helped me out a ton.  _

_     Ling’s good! Still a dumbass. He’s got long hair this time!  _ _ It’s really pretty. ~~Wait fuck no I didn’t say that~~ _

_     Listen. I know this is hard to believe, but- Lan Fan’s here. Like, the real, original Lan Fan I think. And I have no idea how, or what to do. She was never in a relationship with literally  _ anyone  _ in the first life, and then she never showed up again until now. I’ve been thinking about it and I just don’t see anyway for her to be here. That isn’t to say, of course, that I don’t appreciate her being here. _

_     Have you heard from Winry? It’s been a while since she sent me anything, and she still hasn’t responded to my last letter.  _

_     Stay safe.  _

__

_     -Ed _

 

———

 

     It takes a week for General Mustang to respond to Ling’s letter.

 

_ Emperor Yao,  _ he begins,  _ I am afraid I don’t know why Mage Elric’s records were damaged in that way. We have no other copies.  _

 

    For fuck’s sake.

 

    Ling looks up from the letter and eyes Edward suspiciously. The mage is busy enchanting Ling’s dao, so that it will hit twice as hard. Edward’s nose is wrinkled in concentration, his blonde bangs flopping into his face. The mage sighs and pushes them back behind his ears. For a second, Ling considers offering a hair clip. 

 

    Then he does.

 

    He opens his drawer and fishes out a couple of clips. Edward looks up as he approaches, eyes wide as though he’d forgotten there were other people in the room. 

 

     “Your majesty,” he says, shooting a quick glance at Lan Fan, “What is it?”

 

    “I noticed your bangs were bothering you,” Ling says. He places the clips on the table, outside the circle Edward’s has drawn around his dao. 

 

    “Ah, tha- thank you.” Edward murmurs. Ling worries he’s annoyed him, but Edward picks up the clips and uses them to pull his bangs back.

 

    It’s really cute. 

 

    “Well, uh-,”  _ Get it together, Yao, you’re an emperor!  _ “I’ve got to get back to work. Thank you, Edward.”

 

    He sits back down and stares at absolutely nothing with wide eyes.

 

_ Thank you?! He  _ screams at himself,  _ What the fuck, Yao?! _

 

———

 

_ Ed- _

 

_     Oh, what’s that about me blacking out the records? Oh? May 23, 1783, bitch. Yeah. Think about that.  _

_ Riza said to try page 123.  _

_      It’s nearly October. Would Riza and I be able to come visit you? _

_     I… have no idea how Lan Fan could be here. Maybe Ling will know when he’s Remembered? Keep an eye on her, try and figure out if she knows. _

_     As for Winry, I haven’t heard from her lately, but Al says she’s alright. She’s just gone off to Rush Valley, she says she heard from a friend that there’s a girl in town that sounds suspiciously like Paninya.  _

_     Stay safe.  _

_      (May. 23. 1783. Think about it.) _

 

_      -Roy _

 

———

  
  


    Two days after the  _ fucking hairclip thing,  _ Edward knocks on Ling’s office door. There’s a soft  _ Come in!  _ and he enters, ringing his hands behind his back.

 

    “Your majesty,” he says, bowing, “I’ve got a question.”

 

    “Ask away,” Ling says. He has that classic  _ Ling  _ smile on his face, the one that makes him look brighter than the fucking sun. Edward’s mouth goes dry and he swallows, any words that may have previously been in his brain disappearing and going on vacation in Fuck You Land. 

 

     “I - uh - I had a. A question.” _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._ _He’s just really cute! Sue me! I’m gay!_

 

     “And what would that question be?” Ling asks. He’s calm, collected, poise,  _ what the fuck.  _ How does he do that?

 

     “I, uh-,” Edward takes a minute to collect himself, then continues, “I wanted to know if my family could visit soon? Just my parents and maybe my siblings.”

 

    Ling raises an eyebrow. “You don’t need to ask for something like that, Edward, of course they can. This is your home, too.”

 

    “Oh…” Edward says, “I just… I asked your advisor - that’s what he is, right? - and he said that I have to ask you directly for permission.”

 

     “That was my father’s rule, yes,” Ling says. He looks down at his papers and Edward realizes he’s interrupted Ling in the middle of work. “But I am not like my father.”

 

    “Of course, your majesty-!”

 

    “Ling.”

 

    “Ling.”

 

    Edward bows, and Ling raises a hand to stop him. “What did I tell you? None of that.”

 

———

 

_ Mrs. Curtis- _

 

_     Yo! How’s the bar? I know, I know, I’m not paying you to keep an eye on it. I literally just want to know if it’s still standing. I swear to you, I will get that thing opened up again. Promise. _

_     Edward’s good. He’s been overworking himself again, but I’ve gotten on him. Ling’s even been nagging him about it. The dude doesn’t even remember, it’s just instinctual at this point. _

_     Thanks for totally “not” keeping an eye on things for me. _

 

_      -Greed _

———

 

    The second Edward leaves the room, Ling activates his dragon’s pulse.

 

     Something doesn’t feel right. He-

 

     He hasn’t seen Lan Fan in a while. He’s used to her disappearing for a while, but he can always feel her there.  _ Always. _

 

__ And now she’s not.

 

    Lan Fan would’ve told her if she’d had to leave his side. She would’ve - there’s no reason for her to be - fuck, fuck  _ fuck!  _

 

    Ling scrambles out of his chair. It crashes to the ground, and he thinks some of the many jewels on it break off. The door hits the wall as he throws it open and shouts, “ _ Lan Fan!” _

 

__ There is no response.

 

_ Lan Fan isn’t there.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love roy mustang with my entire heart and soul. also oh shit lan fan!
> 
> come scream on the fma discord server! https://discord.gg/9STJzm8
> 
> yell at me on tumblr @luciimarii


	4. planning time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ah shit man we lost lan fan again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops I can’t write! we been knew
> 
> here’s some fuckinf bullshit :)

    Hiding in the rafters… isn’t Greed’s thing.

 

    It’s Lan Fan’s thing, but Lan Fan isn’t here. Lan Fan is off somewhere, most definitely against her will, probably in some kind of pain, and Ling is going absolutely insane trying to find her because no one cares about finding her but him and, for some fucking reason, Edward and Greed.

 

    It’s jarring, turning to his left and finding Greed, who towers above him, rather than Lan Fan, whose head only reaches his chin. And it’s odd having his guard standing by him rather than hiding out of sight. (Greed is far too bulky for that.)

 

    Not to mention Greed’s energy - it’s huge, as though he’s got thousands of souls crammed into one. Having Greed be his personal guard just feels… wrong. Not after nineteen years of Lan Fan. But, the head guard - the head guard who’d stepped up to take Lan Fan’s place - had assigned Greed to be Ling’s guard.

 

    And then there’s Edward. He keeps showing up, he keeps offering to help. Well, yeah, it’s Edward’s job but - he’s everywhere, suddenly, or maybe he’s around just as much as before and Ling’s a lot more sensitive to it. But Ling is just this side of going absolutely feral and it doesn’t help that Edward keeps showing up and sending Ling’s heart into overdrive.

 

     It’s been two days since Lan Fan disappeared, and Ling is only just now able to sit down and think about what happened to her. Between Greed’s reassignment and Edward’s blatant nervous hovering (that he denies) and the council going absolutely wild over two clans going to war or whatever, Ling has had no time.

 

    But now he’s finally able to take a seat at his desk, Greed by the door, and Edward - who’d insisted he be able to help - sat across from him. Ling unfurls a long scroll on the table, covered in names.

 

    “What’s that?” Edward asks. His gloved finger trails down until it lands on Ling’s name, “And why’re you on it?”

 

     “This is a list of my siblings,” Ling says. Greed, who’d walked over when Ling brought the scroll out, leans over the desk, peering at the list with interest.

 

      “Woah,” Ed gasps, “That’s… a lot of siblings.”

 

     “Exactly fifty. One from each clan.”

 

     Just below Ling’s name is Fan Liu. Suspect number one - if Ling were to be killed, Liu could become emperor. He’s got the most motivation.

 

    “Why are some of the names scratched out?” Greed asks. He asks with a tone that makes it sound almost like he already knows.

 

    Most of the scribbled out names are the eleven above Ling’s - but then, there are quite a few others, especially over number twenty seven.

 

    “They’re dead,” Ling says bluntly, “Either I killed them or my other siblings killed them. There is not a single name on this list that died of natural causes or accidentally.” Normally, he wouldn’t explain all that. But, it’s necessary for Edward and Greed to understand why Ling suspects Liu.

 

    Edward and Greed are surprisingly unperturbed. Sure, Edward looks a bit surprised, but he doesn’t look like he thinks any less of Ling, or like he’s even disturbed in the slightest.

 

    But then again, they have lived for centuries.

 

    “So why are you showing us this?” Edward asks. He looks up and his eyes meet Ling’s, a literally luminescent gold meeting midnight black. Ling ignores the shivers that run down his spine.

 

    “Since the second I was born, I have had people trying to assassinate me. Mostly my own siblings. And I can’t blame them - I’ve killed plenty of them myself.”

 

    Ling finds he doesn’t mind when Edward, seemingly subconsciously, places his hand over Ling’s, or when Greed gets a bit too close to his chair and puts his hand on Ling’s shoulder.

 

    “So it would stand to reason, especially now that I am emperor, that my siblings would attack me. Particularly-,” he drops a finger on name number thirteen, “Fan Liu.”

    

———

 

    When Lan Fan wakes, everything feels wrong.

 

    Not because she is laying on the hard floor of a cell, or because she has been stripped of all her weapons, or because she is starving and her throat is dryer than dust.

 

     No, it’s because Ling isn’t there.

 

     “My Lord!” Is the first thing she says, her first instinct. It comes out hoarsely from her dry throat, and that is when she places water second on her priority list. Just under finding Ling.

 

———

 

    “So what do we do?” Edward asks.

 

    “You don’t do anything. Greed and I will pay a visit to Liu, under the pretense of the emperor making a diplomatic visit with the prince of the second strongest clan,” Ling says. Greed stays relaxed next to him, but Ling can feel the underlying tension; The way the guard is coiled tight, like a snake about to strike.

 

    He thinks, maybe, Greed is angry. At him? Hopefully not - not that it matters, Ling reminds himself, I am the emperor. It doesn’t matter.

 

    Edward stands, sending his chair toppling to the ground. “Not happening. If that guy’s trying to get at you, you need all the help you can get. I’m coming with you.”

 

    “I can’t just ask you to come with me, Elric,” Ling says, channeling the diplomat he was raised to be, “You are needed here at the palace. Besides, isn’t your family coming soon?”

 

    “That’s exactly my point!” Edward says. He makes wide gestures with his hands as he speaks. “My family is a family of mages! We can help! I can’t do anything but change things’ shapes, which is helpful for combat I suppose but - my father, he’s a one man army, and my brother is great at the more spiritual kinds of Magic that could help us find Lan Fan. And - my sister-in-law, she can set traps, and my mother, she’s not a mage but she’s an excellent spy. We can help, Ling! So let us!”

 

    Edward - he speaks with such passion about his family, it’s… it’s kind of cute. Not the point! The point is finding Lan Fan.

 

    “Our family really is something,” Greed says, not even attempting to hide the pride in his voice. Yet, he still has the posture of someone hiding their rage, his knuckles white where they’re grasping the table.

 

    Ling grimaces. “Elric, it’s not your place to - to tell me who I can and can’t bring with me to save my friend.”

 

    Edward blinks at him for a second, completely still, then seems to combust. “What the fuck are you on about, dumbass?! I’m your friend, and I want to fucking help you! I don’t want you to get yourself killed, idiot, seeing as how that’s exactly what Fan Liu wants to happen to you! Are you dumb?! Let! Us! Help!”

 

    Greed snorts.

 

    Ling - doesn’t quite know what to say. But he knows Edward’s right, and he says as much, followed by, “When your family arrives… we’ll take them with us to Fan Liu’s palace. We’ll say you’re - we’ll say that you want to strengthen their wards and that they’re your, uh, your assistant mages, how about that?”

 

     Edward grins. In the dimming light of sunset, his eyes provide nearly as much light as their candle. “Roy’s really going to hate pretending to be my assistant…”

 

———

 

    “Okay, spit it out,” Edward says the second they enter their quarters, “Why do you look like you’re about to burn this place down?”

 

    Greed raises an eyebrow as he starts to unbutton his shirt. “What, are you not pissed at the asshole who took Lan Fan?”

 

    “Of course I am!” Edward says, indignant. He struggles to pull his boots off. “But… I don’t know. You just look like you’re ready to go on a murder rampage or something.”

 

     “They took Lan Fan,” Greed says simply as he pulls his shirt off, “Lan Fan’s mine. I don’t exactly like it when people take what’s mine.”

 

     Edward clicks his tongue. “Should’ve known it was your weird fucking… Greed thing. It’s always that, ain’t it?”

 

     “What’s that mean?”

 

    “It means exactly what it says! It’s not a - a bad thing. Just sayin’ I should’ve known.” Edward finally gets the first boot off.

 

    Greed crosses his arms, leaning against the wall by the door to their bathroom. “I’m not that one dimensional, am I?”

 

    “You’re literally the embodiment of greed? You’re not one dimensional but… you’re greedy. That’s your main motivation for just about everything.”

 

      Greed sticks out his tongue. “I’m gonna take a bath, join me when you finally get your boots off.”

 

———

 

    It’s been a week since Lan Fan disappeared.

 

    With still no evidence that Fan Liu was the one to take her, Ling can’t exactly order anyone to investigate his castle - he will have to go visit under false pretenses, and tell the council the same lies.

  

     Then, Edward’s family shows up.

 

    A servant knocks on his and Greed’s door, and tells them the news. Edward is running past her immediately, and probably going way too fast down the stairs. He thinks Greed may be running after him - he can hear the homunculous’s laughs.

 

    He reaches the courtyard, finally. He breathlessly asks a servant where they are and she points him towards the garden, where he finds his family and - god damn it. Ling’s with them.

 

     “Al!” Edward calls. Damn, when was the last time he saw his little brother?

 

     Al looks to him with wide eyes as Edward crashes into him, tackling him in a hug. There, behind him, is Roy’s laughter, and Mei’s squeals, and Riza’s soft chuckles. His family.

 

     “Where’s Winry?” Edward asks as he pulls Al up.

 

    “Still in Rush Valley. She thinks she really found Paninya,” Riza says. Edward smiles, turns on his heel, and hugs her. Roy gets a fond punch on the shoulder.

 

    “Well,” Ling chirps, clapping his hands together, “You’ve travelled far! Why don’t you all join me for dinner?”

 

    Oh no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked it! next chapter: a disaster. what do you think is going to happen at this dinner lmao it’s going to be BIG clown energy 
> 
> also PLEASE point out mistakes I type all this shit on my phone and I have big sausage fingers 
> 
> join the fullmetal alchemist discord server: https://discord.gg/9STJzm8
> 
> yell at me on tumblr - @luciimarii


	5. it’s dinner time baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let’s go fucking crazy ! ! !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u may notice later in this chapter that there’s a part similar to a part from a few chapters ago but just pretend u never read the first one bc i deleted it from that chapter 
> 
> also my italics got fucked up and i don’t feel like fixing it oops

__

Ling is in a special sort of Hell.

 

Roy Mustang is a nice man, from what Ling has seen. A good man, from what Ling can infer. A great man, from what Edward had said while casting protective charms on the door to Ling’s office, and then immediately sputtered, “But don’t you dare tell that bastard I said that!”

 

Roy Mustang is also an absolutely insane man.

 

Mr. Mustang has thrown three candles at Edward thus far - each time without touching the candle. Fucking mages. Edward has masterly dodged each candle and caught it before it could hit anything and start a fire, and Ling wonders why he hasn’t told them to stop yet. He’s an emperor, he should have no problem shutting them down.

 

The fourth time Mr. Mustang throws a candle, his wife - who’s absolutely terrifying, thanks - just says, “Stop.” And he does! Just like that!

 

“Mr. Elric,” Ling whispers, leaning over to Edward’s brother, “Are they...”

 

“Always like this? Yes,” Mr. Elric says. The smile on his face speaks of centuries of suffering.

 

Mr. Elric’s wife (At least, Ling thinks they’re married? They both look, like, sixteen, but then it’s always hard to tell with mages.) has a panda companion. Because of course she does. The panda is crawling around somewhere on the floor now. Ling thinks he might have accidentally kicked it earlier, and he hopes Mei - as she’d simply introduced herself - doesn’t take that as means to kill him in his sleep or something. He has no doubt he could take her, but earlier Edward asked her to pass him a cup. She’d thrown the glass across the table, and it landed upright next to his plate.

 

Nonetheless, Ling wants these people to work with him. So, he turns to Mei and says, “What is your panda’s name?”

 

“Oh, that’s Xiao-Mei!” She chirps, pointing her chopsticks in the air.

 

“Xiao-Mei is wonderfully trained,” Ling says.

 

The girl laughs. “Oh, she’s not trained! She was just born like that!”

 

Right. Of course. Ling decides to change the subject.

 

“So, your relation to Mage Elric is...?”

 

“I’m his sister-in-law, Alphonse’s wife.”

 

Ling nods, using his wine as an excuse not to respond for a moment. Then, he says, “Ah. And what do you do for a living?”

 

Dumbass. Stupid question. She’s a mage, what do you think she does? Congratulations, Ling Yao, you’ve earned the award for Idiot Supreme!

 

"Well, lots of things, really!” She says, piling more chicken onto her plate. Ling wonders where she fits all the food she eats. “Sometimes I’m an artist, sometimes I’m a dancer, but it always comes back to being a healer!”

 

Ling finds he’s actually interested. “A healer?”

 

“Yup! It’s lots of fun - I can heal plenty with my magic but then, there’re also lots of things that can’t be healed with magic and, well, I’ve been around a while, and watching medicine evolve has been wonderful! I mean, there really was a time when we thought leeches could cure everything, you know? And-“

 

Edward barks a laugh. “The leeches! Mei, do you remember that kid from - what was it, 1880... three? Yeah, 1883! And he was like-“

 

Mr. Mustang falls back dramatically, a hand over his heart. “These leeches, they are sucking out my very being!” He laments, “By the time this is over, I will not be dead - I will have never even existed, Doctor Chang!”

 

When Mr. Elric smiles, it is faint, yet charming. “There was that doctor - do you remember, brother? - the one who thought ketchup could cure migraines. That one during the Revolution.”

 

“Oh, yeah!” Edward says, “that asshole! God, he was something.”

 

Greed gasps. “I think I met the guy you’re talking about, at this bar, he-“ His eyes go wide. “I mean, nothing.”

 

The squeak he gives out at Mrs. Mustang’s “No, I’m interested.” is somewhat hilarious.

 

Ling’s not afraid to admit he’s fantasized once or twice about dating Edward. (Okay, he’s extremely afraid to admit it.) But now, he’s starting to think that’s not a great idea. Not if it means he’ll have this family.

 

Maybe he should stop the insanity and get down to business...

 

Ling clears his throat. “Everyone?”

 

Surprisingly, that manages to get everyone’s attention - probably helped by Mrs. Mustang giving Mr. Mustangand Edward a death glare strong enough to melt obsidian. Greed gives Ling a supportive thumbs up.

 

“So,” Ling says, folding his hands. And this - this is easy. Talking, that is. Persuading people, making them do what he wants them to. This is what he was raised to do, what he was born to do. “I have... a proposal.“

 

It seems that the reigns have been passed to Mr. Mustang; His family has turned to him to be his diplomat. They’ve put themselves in his hands. Ling finds it almost heartwarming, ignoring his envy. The only family he can say he’s had is Lan Fan.

 

“A proposal? What might that be?” One eyebrow raised, Mr. Mustang glances sidelong at Edward. The look they share is indescribable; One only two immortals - no, one only father and son can share. Ling wishes he could relate.

 

“There has been a kidnapping,” Ling says, “A friend of mine. Lan Fan, the head of my Guard. The prime suspect is the second oldest of my siblings, the next in line for the throne. I would like to ask all of you to help me infiltrate his palace, find Lan Fan, and take him down if need be. Of course, there will be monetary compensation-“

 

“Yeah, we’re in,” Roy interrupts. He leans across the table with an outstretched hand. “Made up my mind a few minutes ago, I was just messing with you. What’s the plan?”

 

———

 

Summer, 1620, Resembool, Amestris

 

War is terrible.

 

That is simply a fact of life: the grass is green, the Earth is flat, and war is terrible.

 

Ling Yao knew this better than most, but less still than many others. He was reminded of this fact every time his automail ached; every time he was attacked in an alleyway for his being from southern Xing; every time he remembered a sibling he lost.

 

Three left, he would remind himself at night, gazing up at the stars, the only things that looked the same in Amestris as they did in Xing, I have three siblings left. I have to protect them.

 

But first, he would have to find them.

 

In the summer of 1620, Ling stumbled out of a train that had stopped in Resembool. He collapsed to his knees, feeling hopeless and desperate but wonderful and remade because -

 

He’d made it across the desert. One step down.

 

Then, the citizens of Resembool encircled him. They helped him up, they provided a home. They even fixed his body.

 

The resident automail mechanics, the Rockbells, really were something else. They offered their home to him, they built him a new arm.

 

He did his best to help repay them as he saved up to buy himself his own home. Apple picking was difficult in the summer heat, especially with his automail, but the grove wasn’t far and he could handle it for a little while. Winry always appreciated the apples for her pies. And he could handle cleaning up around the house, or entertaining the never ending flow of patients that accompanied wartime as Winry and Pinako prepared for them.

 

The Rockbells insisted that he rest as his body adjusted to the automail, but he’d always been restless. You have too much energy for your own good, His brother would always say, tapping his finger to Ling’s cheek. His older sister would nod and agree. Then, she would point to their youngest sister and say, Nowhere near as bad as that one.

 

Ling cast his siblings out of his mind and turned back to Winry, who sat across the dinner table from him. Winry was a mage - not a very powerful one, though. The mage gene could skip generations, and it had been so long since anyone in her family was a mage that at that point she’d been born with fairly weak magic. Not that she minded; She didn’t need magic to make automail, after all.

 

Winry had two brothers. That, Ling knew. He also knew that their names were Edward and Alphonse, and they’d gone off to join the military. Or that’s what they told her. She thought they were lying. It was none of his business.

 

But today, her brothers came home to visit.

 

Ling slid his gaze to Edward Elric. He was - well, he was really cute. And nothing good could come of falling in love with a mage, Ling knew that! They were too quick to fall in love, he’d always been told, and if they loved you you’dnever know peace.

 

But, Edward...

 

Edward was beautiful. And brilliant. Incandescent. He was... fierce, he could and would fight anyone who looked at him wrong but there was something soft about him. Underneath it all, Ling could tell, was something gentle. He was just like Ling’s brother in that sense.

 

Ling thought, maybe, he and Edward could be something.

 

As long as Ling could find his siblings.

They’d been separated on their way to Amestris, and Ling had no clue what became of them. Their names ran through his mind nonstop-

 

Lan Fan Yao, his cousin who had always been more a sibling.

 

Mei Chang, his half sister with whom he had a sometimes strained relationship but loved nonetheless.

 

And then, his half brother-

 

Fan Liu.

 

———

 

Something’s been bugging Edward about this whole Fan Liu thing. Other than the fact that he’d kidnapped Lan Fan, of course.

 

And now he’s got it.

 

“Stupid, stupid!” He mutters to himself as he runs wildly around his room. Greed is God knows where - that man’s always off in the early mornings protecting Ling. (It makes Edward rest a little easier, really, knowing that Greed’s watching out for Ling. Not like Ling needs it.) Edward scrambles to get his clothes on. His top button’s undone and his shoes don’t match, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it.

 

The books on the very top of his shelf threaten to topple over as he yanks down his first ever journal. The oldest one. The one he’d had when he was still a normal, human age. The one he’d had when he’d met Greed and Ling.

 

He flips through the entries (all coded, of course,) until he finds the summer of 1620. The summer he met Ling. He skims over each one until he sees it -

 

Fan Liu was Ling’s brother.

 

Edward and Liu had never met. Ling’s mission, back in that first life, was always to find his siblings. Greed and Edward were happy to trail along (Edward more so, but all they had to do to convince Greed was tell him he could be their leader). They had found Mei, with an Ishvalan refugee they think might have been a serial killer, but that was none of their business. And they’d found Lan Fan, hiding out in Rush Valley with Paninya, who’d made her a new arm. (Conveniently, that’s how they met Paninya, and thus introduced her to Winry.)

 

And they’d found Liu, too. They were in a small town, and they heard his name mentioned in a bar. They’d interrogated the man who’d said it until they figured out where Liu lived, only to show up at Liu’s home and find him hanging by a rope from the ceiling.

 

Needless to say, Ling had a rough time that first life.

 

But, nonetheless, Liu and Lan Fan shouldn’t be here. As happy as Edward is to see them (although the circumstances are not great), there is no explanation for their presence.

 

There is always an explanation, and Edward Elric always finds it.

 

Edward’s breath hitches. “I need to tell Greed...!”

 

No. Greed’s busy, and getting him away from Ling would be too difficult. He’ll tell Mei, first. Liu is her brother. It would only be fair.

 

He’s going to have to talk to Mei one-on-one...

 

A grimace takes over his face. Not like he doesn’t like Mei. No, he loves her, she’s his sister, but... well. Mei’s been going a bit insane over Lan Fan, you know, existing, and when Mei freaks out she just pretends to be happy and her ridiculousness is only dialed up to eleven, and then when Mei freaks out Al can always tell, and then it’s just difficult.

 

But it can’t be helped.

 

Edward steels himself, turns on his heel, and starts on his way to Mei and Al’s room.

 

When he arrives, he’s glad to find Al’s gone.

 

Edward has only ever been able to describe Mei’s movement as graceful, beautiful, that of a dancer. Even in her everyday she seems to float around her room, never one to sit still during a conversation. Fair enough - neither is Edward.

 

“So what’d you need, Ed?” She asks. Xiao-Mei is perched on her shoulder, munching on bamboo.

 

“Ling didn’t say the name of the sibling he thinks captured Lan Fan earlier, right?”

 

Mei looks at him over the rest of her mug with a raised eyebrow. “No, he didn’t. Why?”

 

Edward rolls the edges of his journal’s pages as he considers how to word this, a nervous habit he’s never been able to break. But he’s always been blunt, so he says, “His name is Fan Liu.”

 

The mug Mei was holding shatters as it hits the ground. “Don’t mess with me—“

 

“I’m not,” Edward says, “I wouldn’t. You know that.”

 

Edward can’t blame her for being disbelieving. It may have been three centuries ago, but the memories are still fresh in his mind - the grief of losing his mother, the hope when he thought he could bring her back. The pain when it didn’t work.

 

Finally, Mei speaks. “I know,” she sighs, “I just - it shouldn’t be possible. First Lan Fan, and now...”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I-“ Mei’s hand shakes as it comes up to her mouth and she is stumbling forward, collapsing on the bed next to Edward. “I just — I don’t want to be hopeful and then—“

 

“And then find out you were wrong,” Edward finishes, gazing solemnly at the wooden floor.

 

But then Mei’s arms wrap around his shoulders, drawing a shocked squeak from Edward. His sister-in-law — no, just his sister — sobs into his shoulder, and he can do nothing but hold her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m doing camp nanowrimo this month! so hopefully there will be frequent updates 
> 
> join the fma discord server - https://discord.gg/9STJzm8
> 
> yell at me on tumblr @luciimarii


	6. blast to the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before we go on, we ought to talk a bit about that’s already happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i’m highkey proud of this chapter 
> 
> all of these scenes are out of order so make sure to pay attention to the time stamps!!

_January 31, 1620_

 

_We found Liu._

 

_He was hanging from a ceiling by a rope. He left no note._

 

_I hope Ling will be okay._

 

_I received a letter from Roy today. Riza’s condition gets worse and worse by the day._

 

_If we are lucky, Riza and Roy’s souls will have bonded enough that if she dies here (and let us pray she doesn’t) she will be reincarnated eventually. I have no doubts that the two of them have. Those two look at each other like starving men look at Christmas Day feasts._

 

_On a lighter note, Greed received word from the Devil’s Nest. The band of Brantley-loyal fools that had been antagonizing them was finally driven away. Greed said ‘driven away’ with a tone that leads me to believe more than that happened, but I won’t complain. If your loyalties still lie with Brantley now that the war is over, I don’t think there’s much hope for you._

 

_Tomorrow, we will start on our journey back to East City to visit Riza and Roy. It will take us about a week, if we can find carriages for the entire way, but I doubt that will happen. In the meantime, I hope ~~mom~~ Riza will be alright._

 

_Edward Elric_

 

———

**1916**

Thirteen is an unlucky number.

 

His mother was never a particularly superstitious person, and had pushed him away from believing such a thing. But Prince Fan Liu, the thirteenth heir to the Xingese throne, knows he is correct.

 

Fan has never experienced anything but bad luck. His mother died - was murdered by the fourteenth heir - when he was six. He’d fallen ill, again and again, and it was only the dozens and dozens of bodyguards his clan hired that kept his younger siblings from taking him out. There had rarely been a time where he wasn’t ill, until he was fifteen and a mage finally visited.

 

The mage introduced herself simply as Curtis.

 

She had asked all kinds of questions, as she spent hours and hours casting spell upon spell. First, questions about him - his childhood (bad, sick), his hobbies (reading, daydreaming), what he thinks of siblings.

 

That one was a bit tricky to answer.

 

By the time he met Curtis, his six oldest siblings were dead. Prince Ling Yao, the twelfth heir, had killed two of them. One of them was murdered by the twenty seventh heir. Two of them had killed each other in a duel, and the fourth heir had died at birth.

 

Seven of the heirs below him had died, too, but Fan never deigned to learn much about them. All he needed to know was who he would have to take out.

 

He had said as much to Curtis. She’d frowned, crossing her arms in a way she liked to do, as she sat on her haunches in front of the chalk circle she’d made around him.

 

“You know that’s not what I mean, Fan,” she’d said, and somehow he didn’t mind when she didn’t use his full title. Maybe he knew there was no way she ever would, anyway. “I already know all that. I want to know what you think of them.”

 

Fan had said, “I need some time before I answer that question.”

 

She’d agreed, and began talking about her sons.

 

Later, when his immune system was made infinitely better and he could stand on his own two feet without shaking for the first time in years, when she was about to leave the palace, she asked him for his answer.

 

“...Ling Yao,” he’d whispered, so that only she could hear, “The twelfth heir, he’s… so much stronger than me. So much wiser. He deserves the throne.”

 

He thought about the banquet at his father’s palace a few years before. All of the heirs still alive had been present. (Three of the heirs below Fan had been murdered there.) He thought about the tense conversation he’d had with Yao, and the knowledge of his brother’s character he’d left with. The knowledge that he could never stomach killing the boy - the man - so clearly the perfect fit to be emperor.

 

Something had flashed across Curtis’s face at the name. Fan couldn’t describe what. But, she said, “A smart man knows when he is outclassed. A wise man knows how to make himself better than the one that outclasses him.”

 

———

 

_Edward-_

 

_I found Ling. He’s the twelfth heir of the Xingese throne. Somehow, he’s royalty._

 

_Visit soon, problem child._

 

_Izumi_

 

———

 

**February 5, 1619, Xing City, Xing**

 

Ling Yao was a thief, a troublemaker, and a self-proclaimed prince.

 

Prince of the slums, he called himself. His sisters thought he was dumb, but Lee played along, and that’s all Ling needed.

 

The wind rushed by him as he ran down the street, weaving between market goers and grabbing things off the booths without looking as he passed by. Lee (as he had started calling him when the similarities of Lan Fan and Fan’s names got too annoying) was only a step behind him, his laughter filling the air around them, infuriating the pursuing soldiers.

 

Ling turned a sharp corner into an alley on instinct and he didn’t have to check to know that Lee was right behind him. He jumped over the gate, ducked under a clothesline, and skidded to a stop at a decrepit wooden door. “Lan Fan!” He called.

 

The door swung open and there was Lan Fan, arms crossed. “Hey!” Ling said, breathless, “Listen, I know we’re only supposed to steal what we need and we’re supposed to be covert, but-”

 

“You got caught?” She hissed before dragging Ling in by the collar. Lee followed, as he always did.

 

“Not caught!” Lee said frantically, not eager to experience Lan Fan’s wrath, “We’re here, aren’t we? We were just seen. It’s happened before, we handled it.” At the dagger-filled look she leveled on him, he added, “And you’re the best sister in the world?”

 

Lan Fan snorted as she released Ling’s collar. “You two need to be more careful-”

 

She was cut off by a shout from down the hall. Mei. Lan Fan sighed a sigh that spoke of long suffering, poor girl. “I’ll go check on her. You two get dinner ready?”

 

“On it!” Ling chirped with a mock salute as Lan Fan left to help Mei.

 

Ling swung into the kitchen, unloading his stolen goods. Some fruit, a couple pieces of jewelry they could probably sell for much more than they’re worth, a package of noodles.

 

There we go, noodles! Wasn’t there some sauce in the cabinet the other day…?

 

“Lee, start boiling some water,” he said, and Lee did. They fell into an easy silence, interrupted only by Ling’s instructions and the occasional laughter from Mei’s room. Ling thought, even if they didn’t live the best life, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

 

And then there was the war.

 

Later on in life - after he’d found all his siblings, one way or another - he’d think back and find he couldn’t remember much of it.

 

Tensions had been high for years before the war; The people were unhappy with the empress, who took too much money from the pelope and put none of it to good use. Finally, riots started to break out, which very quickly shifted from riots to battles. The empress had called upon Amestris’s Führer Mustang for assistance, but he’d declined. Official sources said Amestris was still recovering from their own civil war only a few years earlier. Many others, though, those with inside information, said that the führer sided with the rebels.

 

Those others were proven right when Amestris declared itself an asylum for Xingese refugees.

 

Ling and his siblings endured in Xing for as long as they could. But it was hard - with the amount of soldiers in the capital tripled, and the near daily riots, it was difficult for them to find any source of food. Then, due to their state as homeless orphans, they were heavily targeted by soldiers working for the empress, who cared far less about whether you actually committed a crime and far more about the praise they could get for bringing in a supposed rebel.

 

So they’d set out across the desert.

 

It had taken them two weeks to save the money needed to get a (technically illegal) wagon ride. They crammed in with twenty to thirty other dirty and starving refugees, made a couple friends, and started on their way.

 

The ones supplying the wagon ride - an Amestrian woman and her Xingese husband - passed out as much food and water as they could without running out, but it still wasn’t enough. Once or twice, Ling woke to find a dead body - a man, a woman, a child - who’d starved or dehydrated or gotten heatstroke from the desert sun. He’d hung his head and held Mei tight to his side as he and the other refugees stood in a circle in the sand, and he joined in as they sang songs and said prayers for the deceased. Many of them had met only days before. It didn’t matter. They were all family now.

 

(Once, the deceased was a child. Ling had woken face to face with her, and he had screamed. He didn’t know how long he screamed for, but he knew that when he was done, he found himself trembling in Lee’s arms, and his throat felt like it was on fire. His older brother sobbed as he held him. Ling still doesn’t know why.)

 

Then, the soldiers found them.

 

They hadn’t been careful enough. Their caravan had been found.

 

When he looked back, Ling remembered the gunshots, the screams. He remembered watching the people he had befriended over the past week or so fall dead to the ground. He remembered his older brother shouting, screaming at him to run, to get out of there, to go, go, go!

 

And he had. He was stupid, and he left his siblings behind. He’d walked for days, slowly making his way through the one bottle of water he had and starving like nobody’s business, until he’d found another wagon. They weren’t refugees. They were Amestrian historians, visiting the Xerxian ruins, but they’d let him on without question. They brought him straight to East City, bought him food and train tickets, and told him he’d be safe in Resembool.

 

And in Resembool, he found far more than safety.

 

———

 

Edward Elric’s journal is enchanted to fit far more than it appears it can. If it were not for this fact, he would likely have about thirty journals by now, which wouldn’t fit very well with his semi-nomadic lifestyle.

 

In his journal, between the daily entries and the notes and the theories, are letters. Letters upon letters upon letters, all from his loved ones, carefully pasted in so as not to wrinkle or tear them.

 

A good share of these are from Ling Yao.

 

_To Edward Elric and Greed_

_February 17, 1628_

_My beloveds,_

_Although it has been only a month since we have last seen each other, I find myself feeling as though it has been years. The longer I spend apart from my Shield and my Mage the more I hurt. The day of my return from Mei’s home could not come sooner._

_(That is not to say I do not love Mei. I love spending time with her. I am simply trying to be romantic, for between the two of you there is only about an ounce of romance. I must make up for that lack.)_

_As I write this letter, I look up at the stars. The sky is clear of clouds. It is on nights like this that I think of my brother. I wonder what he would be doing now, if he had never done what he had done. And I wonder what he would have thought of the two of you, my Shield and my Mage, my beloveds. I am sure he would have liked you. Lee was always the type to go along with whatever made me happy simply because it made me happy._

_But he would not have liked you just for that._

_Edward, my Mage, my golden boy, I think he would have admired your intelligence. He always said it was his favorite trait his three siblings shared, even if it manifested itself in different ways. He would have also liked how fierce you are, how confident you are in everything you do, how you waste no time sugarcoating your words or your actions._

_Then Greed, my Shield, my knight in black armor. He would have admired your loyalty, I think. How you would do anything for those you care for, even if you deny that you care at all. He would find you funny, too, with how you pretend that you believe us humans only matter because they are something for you to own. But you know, deep down, that you don’t believe that._

_Sorry, to have gone off in a tangent like that. Today is his birthday. It would have been his twenty sixth._

_I love the two of you most dearly. Please stay safe. There are rumors of Brantley loyals running amok in East City, Edward, and they would not take kindly to your Xerxian heritage. Of course, I know you can handle them._

_In your last letter, you mentioned Mrs. Gracia Hughes and her daughter coming to visit. How are they? Have they found any leads on whether Mr. Hughes has reincarnated? It may be too early for them to go visit him, for if he only passed nine years ago his new self would be nowhere near an adult yet, but it is nice to know he is around at all._

_Be careful, the two of you._

_Ling_

 

———

**September 17, 1920, Fan Liu’s Palace**

A smart man knows when he is outclassed. A wise man knows how to make himself better than the one that outclasses him.

 

Prince Fan Liu is the thirteenth heir to the throne. Soon, he will be emperor.

 

As he looks down at the young woman crumpled on the floor of the cell - the young woman who is only a few months younger than himself - something like regret pools in his stomach. He ignores it. This is what he must do, for the sake of his clan. He must use this, Yao’s weakness, to his advantage.

 

The woman groans, her eyes peeling themselves open. This is the second time she’s awoken, the first time only lasting a few minutes.

 

“...My lord?” She croaks, then, “Ling?”

 

“I am afraid he is not nearby,” Liu says.

 

She gasps, scrambling up. “Liu,” she growls with bared teeth. He can do nothing but look at her sadly.

 

“Miss Lan Fan,” he says, “I am sorry, but if I want to kill Ling Yao, you can not be by his side.”

 

She doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, “You don’t sound like you want to, Liu.”

 

No one’s ever said that before, and now that she has he feels as though he’s been punched in the gut. “What do you mean?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

Despite the fierceness of her expression, she sways, and collapses to the floor. He looks down at her small form solemnly, before shaking his head and turning to ascend the stairs.

 

“It does not matter,” he whispers to no one, “This is what I must do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u guys liked this one!! i didn’t work on it at ALL for like four days and then inspiration struck last night and i wrote 2k words in a few hours and then another five hundred this morning
> 
> please leave a comment! tell me what you did or didn’t like, please! it helps me make my writing better for you, and motivates me to keep going. thank you!!
> 
> come scream on the fullmetal alchemist discord - 
> 
> yell at me on tumblr - @luciimarii

**Author's Note:**

> Jsjdjdjd I hope u enjoyed!!
> 
> please come scream at/with me on tumblr, @luciimarii!!
> 
> also,,, comments are a writer’s lifeblood! what did you like? what did you not like? what are your theories? did i make you laugh, smile, cry, what’s up??


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